Let's get hold of one of those deer
that live way up there in the moutains.
Lure it down with flutes, or lasso it
from helicopters, or just take it out
with a .30-30. Anyhow, we get one.
Then we reach up inside its ass and maybe
find us a little gland or something
that might make a hell of a perfume.
It's worth a try. You never know.
-Jack Gilbert.
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Poetry
The powers that be seem to hold some belief that I should write poetry, and oh God, what the powers that be are thinking is beyond me, probabally something haveing to do with the relative size of peanut to an anteater. Anyway, as such, I'm going to be posting my angst filled writing's here. Lalala.
Somethings are better left alone
A fun filled class excercise
But the situation is not the same...
Maybe it ain't skin deep
Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise
Any way ya want it, thats the way ya need it, any way ya want it!
And so it goes, and so it goes
The names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty as all hell. Probabally gonna be the last Iambic for a while, lap it up.
So ya say ya want a revolution? Try feeling it out
In place of Iambic, 12 sylabel lines, with memories of late night, and coffee in bed
STOP! In the name of love, before you break my heart...
Lalala
HAHAHAHA!!!
Time may change me, but I can't trace time
Such happy stuff
Sweet surrender what a...
Accept certain unaliable truths...
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